


forehead kisses break my knees (and leave me crawling back to you)

by matsuhanasss



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Asphyxiation, Attempted Murder, Car Accidents, Drowning, Killer is Not tagged, Multi, Murder, Stabbing, Time Loop, having intense time loop brain rot so, if you could consider it that, knife fight, smothering, theres a lot to unpack here sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:01:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27774205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matsuhanasss/pseuds/matsuhanasss
Summary: Takahiro Hanamaki’s alarm blares at eight-fifteen in the morning like it does every other day.
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	forehead kisses break my knees (and leave me crawling back to you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LUVVTADASHI](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LUVVTADASHI/gifts).



> HI 
> 
> please enjoy this fic im having the worst brain rot over time loops so
> 
> title from your dog by soccer mommy! listen [here](https://open.spotify.com/track/3BpUZB0tw4zNmG3Iw1mclL?si=tGocJp2uQC6S_2HJ8AvUOw)

Takahiro Hanamaki’s alarm blares at eight-fifteen in the morning like it does every other day.

Also, like every other day, Takahiro groans, throws his blankets over the top of his head and slams his hand wildly searching for his phone to press stop. When he does successfully mash the stop button, he shoves his phone and hand back under his pillow, only to be rudely startled by another alarm five minutes later. No matter how many times he hears them or how many times they’ve happened, the alarms still startle him awake. 

And, like every other day, Takahiro violently kicks his blanket off in frustration, huffing like he’s upset at the world and whines when the wooden floors of his apartment are too cold for his liking in the morning. He knows Issei is up by now, even if the fucker is stupidly good at not clashing the pots and pans together unlike Takahiro. When Takahiro emerges from his bedroom, a loose jacket he’s stolen from Issei months ago thrown on him along with a pair of sweatpants, he beelines for the kitchen where, like _every day_ except the weekends, Issei is making breakfast. 

They eat, laugh at the morning news, brush their teeth together in the bathroom, and Takahiro heads to class. All in all, it’s what would be considered a regular morning to Takahiro Hanamaki. Of course, life throws you curveballs (he was not excited to be hit in the head by a football on campus, but shit happens) and so he doesn’t really look too deeply into the things that are off that day. Because, in a regular world, they aren’t considered off and as of right now, Takahiro is living in the regular world. 

His design class is boring, but Takahiro manages to mess with one of his classmates the entire time. She has crooked teeth and a wrist full of bracelets, and Takahiro has a good time messing with her. He doesn’t know her name and by the end of the class period he still doesn’t know her name. Takahiro makes his way back home to eat lunch and when Issei isn’t there, Takahiro isn’t confused because Issei has classes at this time. He just huffs, opens the fridge, and peers in reaching for the leftovers.

Now, here’s the thing that’s the most out of place in the entire day: Takahiro has just been stabbed in the back. Literally. He drops the leftovers in the fridge, as the knife slips out of his back and then enters a different part. The knife once again slips out of his skin and then slips back in, piercing some other part of his back close to his abdomen. Takahiro never gets the chance to turn around, the stabbing continuing. All Takahiro can do is let out whines of pain as he slumps against the open fridge and bleeds out on the white tile. 

Well, that’d be a bitch to clean.

* * *

Takahiro awakes to an alarm blaring and a loud gasp escaping his mouth.

He scrambles up, slapping around for his phone and when he opens his phone, the time reads eight-fifteen. Takahiro’s brows furrow together as he tries to slow his breathing down. Frantic, Takahiro shoves the blanket off his legs and steps onto the wooden floor, not even wincing at the cold against his feet. He grabs Issei’s sweatshirt, throwing his door open and walking into the kitchen where Issei stands making breakfast.

A list of things Takahiro absolutely knows:

1\. He had just been stabbed to death.  
2\. That it was _not_ a dream.

So, there’s that. Issei whips around at Takahiro’s frantic footsteps. At his frantic look, Issei raises an eyebrow.

“Are you okay?” he asks. Takahiro drops his hand from the doorframe, standing up straighter and allows his face to relax. Okay, so maybe it _had_ been a dream. A weird, deeply distressing dream, but a dream nonetheless. Takahiro nods, closing his open mouth and makes his way to sit at the kitchen table. Takahiro erases the mental note of things he absolutely knows, because clearly, he doesn’t know anything. 

“What has you up earlier than usual?” Issei asks, stirring something in a pan. Takahiro rubs his eyes and then lets his face rest in the palms of his hand for a minute.

“Nightmare,” he says. Issei hums.

“Wanna tell me about it?” 

“Felt way too realistic, dude. Like. I got stabbed in front of our fridge,” Takahiro says. 

“The fridge? In our own home? Ruthless.”

“Rude,” he chides, knocking a knuckle against the table. “But that’s where I am today.”

“Well, I hope your day lives to be better than that nightmare,” Issei says, finishing whatever he’s cooking.

“You and me both.”

The day continues like it had in Takahiro’s dream. He chalks it up to that weird phenomenon where you live an entire day in your dream and just _hopes_ the stabbing part was a weird turn of events that wouldn’t come true. By the end of his design class, Takahiro has broken two pencils by accident and doodled all over his notes anxiously. Of course, it was all filled in with slight banter with the girl from his dream—crooked teeth and all. 

When lunch rolls around, Takahiro has convinced himself that the stabbing had been an elaborate and vivid nightmare. So, he sticks his keys into his apartment door and walks into the kitchen once he’s in there. Like previous, he opens the fridge, investigates, and as he’s reaching for the leftovers, a knife enters his back.

“Oh, what the fuck!” Takahiro says, dropping the leftovers. This time, tragically, the stabbing happens faster and much more violently. As Takahiro is slumped against the fridge, blood leaking out onto the tile, he’s convinced himself this is very much not a nightmare. He shouldn’t have convinced himself that in the first place. 

_Well_ , he thinks, _looking at the blood pooling on the floor, at least no one has to find my dead body!_

* * *

Takahiro is awake two seconds before his alarm starts blaring. Eight-fifteen, Tuesday, November thirteenth. Takahiro falls back on his bed with a loud sigh. He tears his pillow out from under his head, puts it over his face, and screams. He kicks his blankets off, rubs his eyes, slams the stop button on his alarm, and marches into the kitchen.

“When are you having lunch with Tooru and Hajime?” Takahiro asks. Issei doesn’t even startle.

“At, like, twelve-thirty. Why?” Issei says, messing with the eggs Takahiro knows are in the pan.

“I’m coming with you,” Takahiro says. Issei turns around, a questioning look in his eyes. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Okay then,” Issei says, returning to the eggs. When breakfast rolls around, Takahiro is dressed for the day, wearing a larger sweatshirt that belonged to Issei and somehow made its way into Takahiro’s closet. He scarfs down his breakfast, grabs his bag, and is out the door before Issei even gets to say have a shit day. 

So Takahiro avoids getting hit in the head by the football today, goes to his design class, and is starting to be a little more than confused. He’s heard this lecture twice now, he’s lived the same day twice now—what the hell is going on? He’s too focused on trying to solve his life problems to mess with the girl who’s sitting beside him, trying to convince himself that he’s just had another nightmare or that he’s having the weirdest case of déjà vu in history.

Sure, Takahiro may be intruding on lunch with Tooru, Hajime, and Issei, but to his credit he really hasn’t spoken much. 

Here’s list two of definitive things Takahiro knows:

1\. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.  
2\. He might be reliving the same day.

“Makki?” Tooru sings, waving his hand in front of Takahiro’s face. “Makki?” Issei is tapping his knuckles on the side of Takahiro’s head.

“Huh?” Takahiro blinks, bringing himself back to reality. 

“You are scarily spacey today,” Hajime says, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. 

“I am having the absolute worst sense of déjà vu today,” Takahiro says, shoving a fry in his mouth. He wipes the grease of his fingers before running his hands through his hair. 

“What do you mean?” Tooru asks.

“Do you not know what déjà vu is, dumbass?” Issei quips and yelps as Tooru slams his foot into Issei’s shin. 

“Yes, I know what déjà vu is! But our dear Takahiro looks like he’s on a different planet!” Tooru says, sending another kick to Issei’s shin. He dodges the kick, shoving his and Takahiro’s thighs together and Takahiro tries not to blush. 

“It’s just… weird. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Don’t know how or don’t want to?” Issei asks. Takahiro scowls, kicking Issei’s ankle. 

“It’s fine. Really, it’s fine.”

It is not, in fact, fine when Takahiro and Issei are invited to some party thrown by Tooru’s roommate. Takahiro, still convinced he’s in a deep phase of déjà vu has not experienced this. Maybe the déjà vu is over. That’s right, people really only have spells of déjà vu. Yeah! This is fine. Takahiro is fine.

He literally is not fine. Takahiro excuses himself from his group of friends (first mistake) and goes to the bathroom (second mistake). He sighs, closing his eyes as he kicks the door shut and moves to the toilet.

First thing that goes wrong is Takahiro’s head gets slammed into the bathroom counter. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Takahiro says as he feels blood drip down his face. His face is again smashed into the counter, splitting his head open more, and Takahiro is now starting to see stars. He’s manhandled over to the toilet, where his head is promptly shoved into the water. Takahiro gasps, grabbing at the sides and trying to push himself up, but his attacker puts all their body weight on him.

This is… definitely not a nightmare, Takahiro has concluded. Definitely not.

* * *

Takahiro’s alarm blares at eight-fifteen in the morning like it does every other day. 

Unlike every other day, as the alarm blares Takahiro stares at the ceiling. When he finally gets annoyed with his alarm enough, he slams the stop button and stands up. He pulls a pair of jeans on, throwing Issei’s hoodie on, and walks into the kitchen. Takahiro checks the date on his phone: November thirteenth. 

Suspicions confirmed. It’s the same day and he’s still alive. He sighs angrily, opening his door violently, and stomping his way to the kitchen.

“Issei.” 

“Yeah, Hiro?”

“I’m gonna sound crazy, but I need you to believe every word that’s about to come out of my mouth,” Takahiro says, hands falling to his sides.

“Shoot,” Issei says, stirring the eggs a final time before turning the stove off to turn and face Takahiro.

“I’m reliving the same day.” Issei blinks, furrows his eyebrows together.

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”

“I’m reliving the same day.”

“Like a time loop?”

Takahiro snaps, his face breaking out into a grin. “Yes! Yes, like a time loop! That’s what it is!”

“That’s… insane,” Issei says, turning to take the pan of eggs off the stove.

“I told you you had to believe me no matter what!” Takahiro says, voice breaking distress.

“I never said I didn’t believe you.” Takahiro huffs, his face turning red. “But what makes you say you’re living the same day?”

“Because I,” Takahiro starts. “Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck! How do I explain I’ve been living the same day?” 

“I dunno,” Issei says. “I’ve never lived the same day.”

“Well, for one, you’re making eggs right now. I don’t know how much that’s gonna be effective, but,” Takahiro shrugs, suddenly feeling very lost. He makes his way to the kitchen table, sinking into a chair and laying his head in hands. He hears the pan hit the table and spreads one of his fingers to find Issei with two forks in hand and a gentle smile on his face. Takahiro feels like he could start sobbing.

“Tell me about this time loop you’re living in,” Issei says, sitting in front of Takahiro.

“Really?” Takahiro asks, voice shaky and muffled by his hands. 

“Yes, really, dumbass. It’s insane, but I believe you.” Takahiro drops his hands from his face, drops his forehead to the table, and then lifts himself back up and takes a deep breath in.

“Well, for one, I’ve been stabbed to death in front of the fridge twice and last time I got drowned in a toilet at Tooru and Hajime’s house,” Takahiro recounts. “When I got drowned I also had my head bashed into the bathroom counter.”

Now that Takahiro has said that, he realizes how bad his head hurts—like he’s having the worst migraine of his life. He grabs one of the forks and starts eating some of the eggs. He kind of feels swimmy, like his thoughts are muddled, but he squints his eyes and bares it. 

“They drowned you in a toilet? At a party?” Issei asks. “That’s so out in the open.”

“I think that’s why they bashed my head into the counter,” Takahiro says, pointing the fork at Issei. 

“So you couldn’t scream?” 

“Oh my god. I could have screamed. That so would have saved me.” Takahiro isn’t even being sarcastic. He feels a little stupid, in retrospect, over the fact that he didn’t scream because that quite literally could have saved his life that night.

“Do we know who it could be?” Issei asks. 

“No,” Takahiro says. “But they know my schedule, that’s for sure. And they can’t be too much stronger than me, because they had to use their whole body to keep me down when they were drowning me.” Issei nods, sticking some eggs in his mouth. 

“So not much bigger or stronger than you and they know your schedule,” Issei says. “That narrows it down greatly!” The sarcasm is leaking through his voice and Takahiro huffs.  
“I’m doing my best, okay?” Takahiro still feels lost, like there’s nothing he can do. Because he’s still going to die at the end of the day if he doesn’t figure out who this killer is; he’s going to die no matter what, because he can’t find this stupid fucking murderer. Takahiro wants to slam his head into a brick wall repeatedly. 

“Yeah, sorry. I guess I can’t really criticize you for not really considering anything, I’ve never been in a time loop,” Issei shrugs. Takahiro groans. 

“Oh my god. I’m gonna have to explain this to you in the next loop.” Takahiro immediately wants to slam his head into more bricks. 

“Not if we can stop it in this one!” Issei says, trying to sound a little more hopeful. Takahiro gives him a flat look. “Just trying to lift the mood.”

“Thank you,” Takahiro says, sighing. He stands, grabbing his backpack and his keys.

“Be safe, okay?” Issei says, putting a shoulder on his friend’s hand. Takahiro tries to hide his blush and clears his throat.

“Thanks. Also, I’m gonna crash your lunch with Tooru and Hajime again,” he says, grinning.

“Again?”

“I did it last loop.” Takahiro waves his hand and Issei snorts. So, Takahiro dodges a football to the head and goes to class. He avoids his apartment at all costs and starts to walk his way to the cafe where the other three are having lunch. Now, this time the death is on Takahiro. 

“ _Watch out!_ ” someone yells at Takahiro as he steps into the street. His head whips around to see a car speeding towards him.

“Shit,” Takahiro says, practically groaning in frustration. Promptly, the car hits him. He hears the glass of the wind shield crack and quite a few of his bones crunch as he rolls up the hood of the car. He feels his body roll off the hood of the car and hit the pavement. Luckily (or unluckily), the car quits moving. Takahiro wheezes as his head cracks against the blacktop, body limp where it lays. He gives one more final wheezy breath and closes his eyes. 

Well, he sure caused a scene, didn’t he?

* * *

Alarm. Eight-fifteen. November thirteenth. Takahiro is going to go insane. 

That loop was practically useless and Takahiro’s body feels wrecked. His chest hurts and when he goes to stand, he practically yelps placing his feet on the floor. Gingerly, he puts on Issei’s sweatshirt, opting to keep his sweatpants on. He thinks a disaster would happen if he tried to put actual jeans on this go around. He drags himself to the kitchen and beelines for the kitchen table.

“I’m gonna sound crazy, but I’ve already explained this to you in another timeline so I just need you to work with me here. Anyway, I’m in a time loop, you’re making eggs, I’ve been avoiding a football to the head for a while now, I’ve been stabbed twice, I had my head bashed in and then got drowned, and just recently I got hit by a car,” Takahiro says all in one breath. When he looks up at Issei, all Issei does is blink and shrug.

“Alright,” Issei says.

“ _Alright_? I tell you I’ve been stabbed, drowned, and hit by a car and all you have to say about it is _alright_?” Takahiro says, voice cracking.

“Yeah.” Issei goes back to stirring his eggs and Takahiro bangs his head on the table. 

“Sometimes, I hate you.” Issei snorts as Takahiro groans. “Besides that, my body feels like it’s been run over. It hurts so bad.”

“Well, I mean, according to you, you did just get hit by a car,” Issei says. Takahiro scowls, feeling the strong urge and want to punch Issei, but his body is already screaming against it so he decides not to. 

“That’s because I did, thank you very much,” Takahiro says. Issei shrugs and pours the eggs onto a plate, making his way over to the kitchen table. 

“You know who it might be?” Issei asks through a mouthful of eggs. Takahiro sighs.

“Not really. They can’t be much bigger than me though. When they drowned me they had to hold me down.”

“So not much bigger than you is it? That’s all we’ve got?”

“And that they have my schedule memorized.”

“Oh?” Issei says, looking up.

“Both times I’ve been stabbed it’s been in the apartment, when I’m going to lunch—which is literally almost always here—, and they always stab me when I’ve opened the fridge and am holding the Chinese takeout from last night,” Takahiro says.

“You’re eating the Chinese from last night?” Issei asks, brows furrowing and nose scrunching.

“Well not anymore, I’m not,” Takahiro hisses. Issei raises his hands up in defense as Takahiro falls back in his chair. 

“So that’s all you have? That they’re only slightly smaller than you and have your schedule memorized?” Issei asks and Takahiro nods. 

“I died too soon last go around to really figure anything else out,” Takahiro says. “Don’t forget to look both ways when you’re crossing the street, by the way.” 

They continue talking over breakfast, and as much as Takahiro’s body hurts, he still goes to class. He makes his way to the cafe where Issei is having lunch (yes, he looks both ways before crossing the street) and he sits down in the chair heavily. His body still hurts, but it’s a lesser pain than it was this morning. Less screaming joints and bones that actually feel like they might be broke, but more of an ache. If he took tylenol it might help them, alas he does not have any on him and he doubts the rest of them do. 

“Didn’t know lovely little Hiro would be joining us today,” Tooru says, sitting his coffee cup down. Takahiro gives him a closed lip smile and lifts his hand.

“Thought I’d crash your lunch. Just pretend I’m not even here,” Takahiro says, spreading his hands out. 

“Got it,” Hajime says, lifting his drink to his lips.

“No! Now you’re here and I will willingly choose not to ignore you,” Tooru says, leaning forward over the table to tap Takahiro’s nose. Takahiro wrinkles his nose in disgust, pulling back from Oikawa’s touch. And the conversation flows into something Takahiro has already heard; talks about school and travelling and then, finally, they get to the invitation of Tooru’s party.  
“I don’t think I’ll be able to make it,” Takahiro says, stretching his legs out. Tooru frowns.

“Why’s that?” Tooru asks, a genuine curiosity in his voice.

“For once, I have a paper due in two days that I haven’t even started. Two, my body feels like it got hit by a truck.” he leaves out the fact that he has been hit by a car, because that’s just too much explanation for Takahiro right now. Tooru hums, seemingly satisfied with the answer. 

“Okay, but you better not miss the next one!” Tooru says, pointing at him and narrowing his eyes.

“I won’t! Promise,” Takahiro puts his hand over his face.

“You better not.” Tooru settles, taking a drink from his cup and a bite out of whatever the fuck pastry he ordered. 

“I don’t have to go,” Issei says, standing in front of the door. Takahiro waves a hand.

“No, go. You’ll have fun.” Issei doesn’t look too convinced, so Takahiro pushes him towards the door. “ _Go_.”

“But you have the possibility of dying if I leave,” Issei says. Takahiro realizes his hand is still on Issei’s shoulder blade. He practically rips it off, blushing. 

“I have the possibility of dying even if you stay. I’d rather you not be here to experience my sixth death,” Takahiro says. 

“Oh, but you’re perfectly fine with me finding your dead body?” Issei says.

“Who else had to have found it when I was stabbed twice, Issei,” Takahiro deadpans. Issei scowls, but grabs his jacket and opens the door.

“I will be texting you. The first text you don’t answer, I’m coming home.” Takahiro rolls his eyes and sighs. The worry isn’t unprecedented, of course, but Takahiro doesn’t want this time loop thing to be a burden on Issei. 

“Alright. Go enjoy yourself.” Issei texts Takahiro every half hour, which is slowly driving him insane, but Takahiro answers every text. He’s lying on his bed, the TV chattering, and it’s rather peaceful.

Right until a head of blonde hair and sunken in eyes comes at him with a pillow. Takahiro goes to swing, but his attacker is straddling him and the pillow is over his face before he can really do anything effective. He claws and punches, but when he starts struggling to breathe, he starts struggling to fight back. His thrashing slows and his vision blacks out more than before.

Takahiro feels like this could be considered mildly homoerotic.

* * *

Eight-fifteen, November thirteenth—you get the idea. 

Takahiro wakes up with a wheezy cough and information he didn’t have before. Blonde hair and sunken in, beady eyes. Takahiro wheezes another cough and gets up excitedly, slipping out of jis sweats into jeans and pulling the grey sweatshirt that was once Issei’s. He slides into the kitchen excitedly, stumbling with his socked feet and grabs the door frame to hold himself up. 

“He’s blonde!” Takahiro shouts.

“Who’s blonde?” Issei asks.

“I’m stuck in a time loop, yada yada. Technically you already know this, but I died so, like, whatever! Whatever! But I have more to what my killer looks like!” Takahiro slaps the wall, an excited grin on his face.

“Care to tell me about them?” Issei asks, stirring his eggs.

“ _He’s blonde!_ He has these little, like, fucking beady eyes!” Takahiro says, moving his hands around and talking fast. “He smothered me to death, so that was something.”

“That’s insane.”

“Tell me about it! This is the seventh time I’ve been alive!” Takahiro coughs, heading to the kitchen table. “I’m pretty sure his hair was dyed.” If Takahiro thinks hard enough, he could spot tidbits of brown in the blonde head. The hair was also mostly shaved down.

“You seem excited,” Issei says, sticking some eggs in his mouth.

“It’s amazing! This is fucking… amazing! I have so much information I didn’t have before!” Takahiro says, breathless. “By the way, I’m gonna crash your lunch with Hajime and Tooru today.”

“Why?”

“Don’t feel like getting stabbed,” Takahiro says. Issei looks startled. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t think anything can really top getting hit by a car.” Issei looks even more concerned.  
“Anyway, I’m gonna go and head to class! See you at lunch!” Takahiro says, grinning and waving as he grabs his backpack. Issei gives him a gentle smile and small wave back. Takahiro goes through this loop with an energy that hasn’t been presented in the previous ones. Instead of dodging the football, he catches it and throws it back. Him and the girl throw jabs back and forth at each other and he learns her name is Maya. He goes to lunch with the other three, talking more animatedly than he ever has before. 

Instead of avoiding the party, he goes. He has a good time with his friends and pointedly avoids the bathroom, meaning he doesn’t drink much. 

“Can you help me find my lighter? I think I left it in Oikawa’s room, but I’m gonna check Iwaizumi’s. It’s a clear blue,” some dude asks Takahiro. High on euphoria, Takahiro agrees and begins to make his trek towards Tooru’s room. He starts looking for the lighter, and the search party ends up fruitless. Then, the music seems to be more muffled, and Takahiro is far too close to a man in all black. He squints and blinks.

“Mad dog?” a glass bottle is promptly shattered over his head.

* * *

Eight-fifteen, blah, blah, blah. Takahiro’s got it figured it out. Now, he just needs to figure out how to stop it. Takahiro throws his clothes on and slides into the kitchen.

“How do I stop a time loop where the person is killing me?” he asks. Issei turns, eyebrows lifted.

“Murder them back?”

“That’s genius. Thank you,” Takahiro says, grabbing his backpack.

“Aren’t you gonna stay for breakfast?” Issei calls.

“I’ll grab something on my way to class!” Takahiro calls back. His stomach swells in determination and, honestly, if he ate right now, he’d probably get sick. He’s also too giddy about knowing who his killer is to avoid the football, but he takes the blow to the head with a smile and throws it back to the kids who apologize.

Takahiro makes his way back to the apartment for the first time since the second loop. He shoves his keys in the locks and quietly pads into the kitchen, grabbing a kitchen knife from the knife block. 

“I know you’re in here, you motherfucker!” Takahiro calls out. “Mad Dog, the jigs up!” The pounding footsteps of someone running are not what Takahiro expects in the slightest, but suddenly he’s face-to-face with Mad Dog. He lets Mad Dog get a few swipes on his arms, before he starts fighting back.

Fighting back proves to be harder than Takahiro thinks. Mad Dog gets more than a few swipes on Takahiro, stabbing him in the shoulder before wrenching the knife out.

“Oh, what the fuck, dude?” Takahiro says, aiming for Mad Dog’s side and successfully getting it. “If you fucking die, this time loop is over. Or even go to jail!” Actually, that’s not a bad idea. Takahiro grabs his phone from his back pocket and calls the police. He’s still defending himself trying to tell the police there’s a home invader in his home trying to kill him. 

He finds a safer location by bolting and locking himself in the background and hiding in the bathtub. By the time the police arrive, there are a few knife wounds in the door, but at least they aren’t Takahiro’s body. There is a fair amount of blood in the bathtub when Takahiro is escorted out of the house and into an ambulance, but he thinks that’s really the least of his worries right now. His current focus is Issei. 

“Hey, Issei,” Takahiro says into the phone.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Well, for one, I’m headed to the hospital,” Takahiro says, stopping.

“ _What the fuck are you going to the hospital for, you dumbass?_ ” Issei hisses. Takahiro can hear a chair scrape back and the concerned voices of Hajime and Tooru.

“I don’t think that’s the way you should talk to someone who was almost just murdered!” Takahiro says.

“You were _what_?” Issei asks, disbelief flooding his tone. 

“A very long story that I don’t have the time to tell right now. Meet me at the hospital, yeah?” Takahiro says, voice getting softer. “Don’t bring Tooru and Hajime. Just wanna see you.”

“Yeah, ‘course I’ll meet you there,” Issei says. There’s something so dangerously soft about this conversation, so tender. 

“See you soon.” The phone hangs up and Takahiro throws his head back and heaves a sigh. 

Issei meets him at the hospital, as promised. Takahiro gets stitches and bandaged and is released. 

“So, the bathroom door has s—” Takahiro is cut off by Issei’s lips. Takahiro, without missing a beat, reciprocates.

“I should have asked. Sorry,” Issei murmurs. Takahiro laughs breathily. 

“It’s fine. Really,” Takahiro says, leaning up to press another kiss to Issei’s lips. 

“But as I was saying,” Takahiro says, pulling away, “our bathroom door has some new knife marks in it. And the bathtub might have a little of my blood in it.”

“That’s horrifying,” Issei says.

“Says the one who wasn’t almost murdered! I had to live through that shit, like, seven or eight times!” Takahiro screeches. 

“Seven or eight times?”

“I told you it was a long story! It involves a time loop.”

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [twitter](twitter.com/wIwilbur) and [tumblr](https://bloodyknuckles.tumblr.com)


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